


it's not food poisoning

by qynntessence



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qynntessence/pseuds/qynntessence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha's surprise in Clint's illness quickly turns to nausea and a 104 degree fever.</p><p>--</p><p>“Do they know what’s wrong yet?”</p><p>“It’s not food poisoning- it’s Tony’s stomach flu from a few days ago. They think-” She is cut off and Clint hears coughing on the other end. “Hey, baby, I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Clint can hear Natasha throwing up and winces. She’s gagging painfully, and he can hear her labored breathing over the phone.</p><p>“Sorry, she just threw up again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not food poisoning

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally going to be part of my 5+1 where Steve takes care of people and gets sick, but then Natasha happened.
> 
> Please feel free to leave constructive criticism and comments! I love learning how to get better!
> 
> TW: mentions of unsexual nudity, obviously-bad sex jokes, mentions of vomiting (multiple times), hospitalization

Steve usually falls asleep during movie nights.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy movies or the company of his teammates; he loves the comfort and family they had built around each other.

But movie nights were always the night of a bad mission, when someone needed to be surrounded by family and distract themselves from everything. It was almost always Natasha and Clint, since they went on combat missions, and when Clint wasn’t around, it was Steve who watched Natasha throw herself into danger. He was always worried for her, but never because he believed she couldn’t handle it. He had watched his best friend die once; he wasn’t ready to do it again.

This is why, when Natasha collapses against the couch after their first tough mission together, her head on Clint’s lap and her hands shaking, he slides in behind her. His arms come around her stomach and he holds tight. Suddenly, Clint’s hands are in his hair, gently pushing it out of his eyes and pulling it backwards.

“Stressed?” He asks quietly, one of his hands shifting to stroke through Natasha’s hair.

“That obvious, huh?” He grins up at Clint.

“Yeah. I’m good at catching that type of stuff, since I’ve been with Nat for a while. Once you can read her, you can read anyone.” He leans down to press a kiss to her temple. The lights begin to dim as Tony leans backwards in his recliner, and Clint’s hands run through his hair again.

He falls asleep after ten minutes, the sheer exhaustion of the past mission finally catching up to him.

\--

It’s been a year and a half since Steve first fell asleep with his arms around Natasha and his head on Clint’s lap, and he’s stayed awake for exactly one movie in that time. Clint is very good about not waking him up when the movie ends; Steve always starts the next morning on the couch, with a pillow under his head and Natasha curled around him. They have learned to find comfort in each other, holding each other through nightmares and panic attacks when they come. Natasha has become his comfort and his closest friend, despite what the news articles may say about their relationship.

So it comes as a surprise to him when he is woken up halfway through The Princess Bride by a loud coughing. He looks instantly to Natasha, but she is curled up against his shoulder, eyes open but clearly alright.

“Clint?” Natasha sits up softly and looks at her partner. Clint’s fist is over his mouth as he coughs, and he quickly turns his face away from Natasha. “Are you _sick?_ ” She asks incredulously. He shakes his head.

“I never get sick. You know that.” Steve notices the catch in his voice, the first sign of someone coming down with a cold, and feels a wave of pity for his boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” Natasha pulls herself forward to sit on his lap and Clint turns his head away from hers with another cough. 

“Just allergies or something.” He mumbles. Natasha sighs and presses a hand to his forehead.

“Allergies cause congestion, not coughing, Clint. Besides, you’re warm. Why don’t you lie down and see if you can sleep it off?” She shifts off his lap as he concedes, sliding in front of Steve and laying his head on her lap. Steve shifts to wrap an arm around Clint, knowing that he needs the physical comfort after the last mission. Steve and Clint’s friendship had strengthened through Natasha, and after a year, Clint had awkwardly asked Steve if he wanted to go out. Steve had enthusiastically said yes. Natasha’s hands come to rest in his hair and he closes his eyes again, drifting back to sleep easily.

\--

“Clint?” Natasha’s quiet voice wakes Steve from his sleep. “Clint, darling, wake up.” Steve can hear the archer’s labored breathing next to him. 

“’m awake. What’s going on?” Clint opens his eyes to see Natasha in front of him, her red hair covering half of her face.

“You’ve got a fever, Clint. Let’s head down to your room, okay?”

“’m not sick.” He protests, a cough rising to his lips. He takes care to turn away from Natasha, who is still kneeling right in front of him.

“Okay, you’re not sick. You need to go down to your room anyway, it’s 1am. Come on.” She stands up quickly and offers him a hand. He groans, but starts walking towards the elevator.

“If I’m sick- and I’m not saying I am- I don’t want you getting too close, okay?”

“Clint, I’m going to take care of you if you’re not feeling well. You’ve always done the same for me.”

“No, Natasha. I have an immune system of steel, and we both know that. You get sick too easily. I would hate to see you ill, especially if I caused it.” As the elevator door opens, he presses a kiss to her forehead. She follows him through the silver doors, red hair glinting in the fluorescents.

“You never get sick, Clint. I’ve seen you sneeze maybe once. You’re not doing this alone.” She grabs his hand and leans against the elevator doors. With a cough pointed away from her face, Clint replies.

“That’s why I’m worried about you, Nat. If I come down with something, even if it’s minor, you’re going to catch it easily. I don’t get to protect you in the field- I know you don’t need it, but it still kills me to see you get shot at. Please, I can’t let you get sick because of me.” Clint coughs again, his chest rattling, and he turns away from Natasha. The elevator doors open, and he can see the goosebumps appear on her shoulders from the cold air.

“Okay. But I’m staying here tonight.” She leads them towards the bedroom and gently starts working Clint’s jeans off his waist.

“Hey baby, I’m too tired for that tonight.” Clint waggles his eyebrows at Natasha and she rolls her eyes as she tosses the pants into the corner.

“Shut up, Barton, or I’ll kiss you.” Natasha’s pants join Clint’s on the floor, and she pulls her tank top and bra off. “Put on some sweats and a t-shirt and we’ll go to bed.” She opens up the second drawer of Clint’s dresser and pulls on a pair of sweats and an old Avengers shirt, a present from Tony. She tosses him a second t-shirt and pair of pants before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Clint sighs softly as she smiles in her direction, a real smile that crinkles her eyes and makes his heart skip.

“Hey.” Natasha smiles down at him, gently tugging his t-shirt over his head and pressing a line of kisses around his collarbone. “Come on, get ready for bed. I know you’re exhausted.” Clint pulls a purple shirt over his head and a pair of sweatpants finds their way around his legs. Natasha pulls the blankets back and crawls into his bed, her red hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Nat?” He pulls the blanket over the pair of them as Natasha pulls him down into the pillows. “Thank you. I love you.” He smiles into her hair and kisses her forehead.

“I love you too. Now go to sleep- I want you to sleep off whatever you’ve got.”

“Why, so you can kick my ass tomorrow?”

“Something like that.”

\--

Clint wakes up coughing and he thanks all the gods he can think of that he was turned away from Natasha. The strange feeling forces its way out of his chest, and he can feel his throat burning.

“Here.” Suddenly, Natasha is in front of him, holding a glass of water and looking up at him with sympathy. She helps him upright and he turns his head, determined to make sure she doesn’t get sick.

“Drink, Clint.” Natasha is behind him now, pulling his shirt off and pressing kisses to his back. Her fingers trace over his skin, gentle and soft and comforting. He relaxes into her as the coughing subsides. “Your cough has gotten worse, darling. Your fever is rising and you seem congested.” She kisses the top of his spine and he shivers, which brings about another few seconds of coughing.

“Look. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m worried about you too. I’m going to go grab a few things from my floor and I’ll come right back down, okay?” He nods, but looks away as she shifts off the bed, reluctant to look at her lest his coughing return. Apparently, it was the right choice, as he sneezes thrice in quick succession. She sighs quietly and hands him a tissue. “I’ll be right back. Try not to die.”

“No promises.”

\--

“You’re late.” Steve is sitting at her table when she walks in, and she remembers that they had a breakfast date scheduled for- she checks her watch- fifteen minutes ago.

“Sorry. Clint’s sick- which never happens- so I’ve been down there. I’m pretty sure he caught whatever strain of the flu is currently going around.” Natasha sneezes once into her elbow and continues to search her medicine cabinet for decongestants and cough drops. She finds them both and jumps down from the counter.

“Nat, you look exhausted. Why don’t you let me take those to him and you can have breakfast? I already started your eggs, they’re on the table.” Even though he phrases it as a question, he has already taken the medicine out of her hands and grabbed the box of lotion tissue under her sink. He gently leads her over to a chair and pushes her into the table. “Now eat. Stop thinking about everyone else for ten minutes and relax. I’ll be back soon.” He drops a kiss on her head as she sneezes again. 

“Plus, Barton’s going to be torn up if he hears you doing that.”

\--

“Clint?” Steve enters the room warily, noticing the coughing purple bundle curled up on the bed. “I brought Natasha’s get-better kit.” He sits on the corner of the bed as Clint sits up, shirtless and messy-haired.

“You know, if you don’t want to get Nat sick, taking off each other’s clothes isn’t really the best option.” He motions to Clint’s bare chest and ruffled hair. Clint looks like he wants to make a jab back, but instead, he sneezes.

“Alright, jokes aside, you’re freezing. Put your damn shirt back on.” Steve starts unloading the small bag he had brought up. “I know you’re worried about Natasha- I am too, especially since she was on mission with you and was probably exposed to whatever you caught, not to mention the fact that she’s exhausted. If you want, I can stay here with you instead. If you’re not comfortable with that, especially since we haven’t been together for a while, I’ll go, but I thought I’d give you the option.” Steve twirls the bag around his hands awkwardly.

“Given there’s no way I’m getting Nat sick, I guess I’m stuck with Captain America.” Clint’s voice is hoarse but teasing, and it seems painful to force the words out.

“Okay. I’m going to head upstairs and make sure she goes to sleep, and then we’ll see if she can pick up a few things for you. For all his electronic gadgets, Tony does not have a humidifier.”

\--

When Steve comes back upstairs, Natasha is asleep at the table, her mouth slightly open and a light cough emerging from her mouth. Steve smiles at the sight of his best friend and nudges her shoulder.

“Nat? Hey, honey.” The nickname slips out accidentally, but she smiles sleepily. “Do you want to get into bed, Natasha?”

“I think you should take me to dinner first, Cap.” She mumbles into his shoulder, and he laughs.

“Sure thing. But firstly, you need sleep. If you’re not going to walk, I’ll carry you.” 

“What about Clint?” She asks, standing up and blinking sleep out of her eyes. Steve can tell she’s not feeling well from the lack of alertness in her features; yes, she lets herself be sleepy around the tower, but she’s never this out-of-focus.

“Worrying about you. I’ve got Clint covered- you just rest and I’ll call you if we need anything.” Steve’s smile is genuine as he walks with her into her bedroom. She crawls under the mountain of blankets and pulls a pillow over her head.

“Night, Steve.” 

He flicks the light switch off. “Good night, Natasha.”

\--

“She’s asleep.” Steve leans against the wall closest to Clint, staring up at the archer. He’s not entirely sure of Clint’s boundaries when he’s sick, and he definitely doesn’t want to cross them. “Why are you so worried? I mean, I am too, but you seem extremely concerned about her health. What’s going on?”

“Natasha’s immune system is terrifyingly bad. It’s weird, especially since she’s pretty much immune to anything else, but she gets sick very easily. I mean, she’s great at hiding it, so almost no one can tell, but I’ve spent a lot of nights bringing water and making sure she could breathe and holding her hair back.” He coughs harshly, which emphasizes the rasp of his voice, but continues to talk. “From what the SHIELD doctors could tell, she was pumped up with immunity drugs at the Red Room. That was what protected her from sickness, so her immune system never got a chance to strengthen. There’s an irony in the fact that the strongest person on the planet is so easily susceptible to illness.” He muses softly and coughs into his hand.

“I know how that feels.” Steve remembers all too well what it was like to get sick so often.

“She’s got terrible asthma as well. It’s not bad unless she gets a respiratory infection, but then it’s really bad. Like, willingly-going-to-SHIELD-medical bad.” He sighs quietly. “I worry about her a lot.”

“I know. I do too.” Steve turns to lean against the bed. “Get some sleep, Clint. You never talk this much- you’ve got to be exhausted.”

\--

 _Hey. How are you feeling?_ Natasha kneels by Clint’s head and signs, her fingers brushing over his scalp with care when she’s finished.

 _Worse. Can’t talk anymore. Coughing a lot._ As if to prove his point, he sits up rapidly and coughs into his fist, but not before turning his head carefully away from her. He sneezes intermittedly and Natasha can feel her heart breaking at the expression on his face. She twists herself into the small space between his head and his lap, arms coming around his torso. She rubs his back gently and kisses down his jawbone.

 _I love you._ Once his coughing has stopped, Natasha eases her partner down, curling into his chest comfortably.

“Nat?” Steve comes in from the kitchen with a water bottle and a stern expression. “You know, if you’re trying to get sick, you could just kiss him.” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m fine, Steve. Just came to check on him. Anything you guys need?”

“Yeah, actually. I made a list.” Steve hands her a Post-it note with a short list of items.

“Alright. I’ll be back soon.” She signs the words as she says them, then wraps her arms around Clint and smiles. He almost doesn’t notice her sneeze. When she does, he feels his stomach drop.

\--

 _Is Natasha getting sick?_ He signs to Steve, a worried expression on his face.

 _I don’t think so- even if she is, it’s probably just a cold, nothing more. Not what you have._ Steve is slow and a bit clumsy, since he’s new to ASL, but Clint understands.

_If she’s sick, it’s bad. She didn’t sleep well last night- nightmares._

_I know- she was exhausted this morning, but she slept all day. I’m sure she’s fine, Clint. Are you doing okay, after the mission?_

_Not really. Can’t exactly sleep anyway, though, so it doesn’t matter._

Steve sighs and crawls into bed next to Clint. _Do you want to talk about it?_

 _I can’t exactly talk, Steve._ Clint laughs a bit at Steve’s expression of guilt, which turns into a cough. Immediately, Steve pulls him upright, resting Clint’s head on his shoulder. He runs fingers through his hair and whispers softly as Clint’s body shakes. Even if Clint can’t hear the words, the gesture is comforting. He reminds himself to put in his hearing aids when he falls asleep- while he was sick, he could have the comfort of not trying to hear and lipread, but not while sleeping. That was far too dangerous.

 _Are you feeling nauseous? I know I always threw up when I was sick._ Steve’s hands are gentle as he pushes Clint’s hair away from his face.

 _A little, but I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m exhausted and not because I’m sick._ Steve nods and walks into the bathroom, returning with a cold washcloth. He places it over Clint’s forehead and eyes and then pulls Clint into his lap, hands on his shoulders.

\--

When Clint wakes up a few hours later, the washcloth is gone and he is in bed with a national icon. Steve’s arms had come around his waist and his arms were around his neck.

 _Well… if we weren’t comfortable in our relationship yet, we definitely are now._ Clint thinks with a shrug. Steve’s eyes open and he smiles, something unguarded and only seen when his defenses are down entirely.

“Hey.” He whispers, and then remembers that Clint couldn’t hear. He starts moving his hands until Clint shakes his head.

 _Put them in before I fell asleep. Still can’t talk, but I can listen._ He leans his forehead against Steve’s, their noses touching. 

“Your fever’s getting worse, Clint.” He sounds nervous. “How’s your throat feeling?”

“Terrible.” He tries the word to see if he can speak, and Steve looks like he can barely understand.

“I’m sorry.” His hands run through Clint’s hair gently. He begins to cough again, deep, hacking coughs that shake his entire body. He realizes too late that the person in front of his face is Captain America, and he immediately tries to turn away.

“Hey, hey, hey. Clint, I can’t get sick, remember?” Steve sighs quietly as Clint sneezes again. “It’s okay, Clint. It’s okay.” Their foreheads are together again as Clint shakes, coughing heavily and obviously trying very hard not to do so.

\--

Once Natasha drops off two bags of groceries to her boys, pressing kisses to both foreheads, she staggers upstairs to head back to sleep. She can feel the pressure in her sinuses building and her throat constricting, and if either of the boys heard about it, Nat knew Clint couldn’t get the rest he needed.

Natasha walked firmly into her bedroom and sighed. Usually Clint could do all of the set-up for “Natasha Is Sick, Version 5000,” but it was her turn. She grabbed another box of tissues to put on her bedside table, next to the thermometer. She placed a trash can next to the bed and found decongestants and Pepto in her cabinets. Finally, she dialed Maria.

“Hill speaking.”

“It’s Romanoff. Barton and I can’t make the debriefing tomorrow night- he’s got the flu and I feel disgusting, so I’m going to sleep.”

“Do you want me to come over, Nat?” Maria’s voice changed from Deputy Commander to worried girlfriend.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I don’t even know if I’m sick yet.” That was a lie that she knew Maria would see right through.

“Call if you need anything, Natasha.”

\--

 _Feeling any better?_ Steve signs so Clint doesn't try to talk back.

_I’m not as congested, and my throat feels better. How many days has it been?_

_Just one since I’ve been here. Day and a half since movie night._

_I think I’ll be better by tomorrow._

\--

Natasha wakes up feeling dizzy, nauseous, and congested. As she opens her eyes, wincing at the brightness of the walls, she figures she’s probably down with at least two different things, if not three. _God_ , she misses Clint. She turns over onto her stomach as the nausea reaches a peak. 

Five minutes later, she throws up again, arms shaking as she crawls back under the covers. She grabs the thermometer on her bedside table and sticks it in her mouth tiredly. _103.4_.

Well, shit.

She figures her best option is to go back to sleep, and she tries to get comfortable under the covers. Within two minutes, the assassin is curled up around the trash can for the third time, throat burning. Giving up on sleep, she gropes on the table for her cell phone.

“Maria?”

“Natasha, you sound like hell. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a fever of 103.4 and I’ve thrown up three times in ten minutes.” She knows how miserable her voice sounds, but she can’t bring herself to care at the moment.

“I’ll be there soon.”

\--

After a few hours, Clint is sleeping soundly, and Steve feels relieved that he’s getting better. He decides to call Natasha, just to check up on his best friend. 

“Nat? How are you feeling?” 

“Steve, this is Maria. Natasha and I are in SHIELD medical- she’s got a 104 fever and can’t keep anything down.” Steve’s chest fills with dread.

“What the hell happened to Nat?”

“We don’t know yet. We think its food poisoning and whatever Clint has, but they’re not sure.”

“I can be there in ten minutes. Where are you?”

“Steve, especially if you’ve been around Clint, you are not coming in here. Most likely, she’s already caught Clint’s flu, but if she hasn’t, she would if you showed up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to stay here for a while. You can tell Clint, but he’s not coming here anytime soon. Good luck, Cap.”

\--

Steve drifts in and out of sleep, nervously thinking about his best friend stuck in medical. Clint seems to be over the worst of the flu, as evidenced by his sleeping throughout the day, though Steve knows that could change easily.

“Oh my god, I can breathe.” Clint’s voice was hoarse but hearable. “How’s Nat? Did I get her sick?” He looks towards Steve while putting his hearing aids in. Steve doesn’t answer.

“Steve? Is she okay?” His voice took on more of a nervous tone.

“Clint, Natasha’s in SHIELD medical. She’s got a 104 fever, according to Maria, and she’s throwing up anything she eats. They think it’s a combination of food poisoning and the flu.”

Clint swore. “Fuck. That’s not it, though, Nat doesn’t get food poisoning, ever. She probably picked up the stomach flu from Tony- he was sick the day before we came back and I’ll bet he touched everything- and then whatever I had. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Let me call Maria.” He grabbed his phone from the table and dialed quickly. Steve wonders idly how Natasha could never get food poisoning but get sick so easily, and the story behind Clint’s immediate knowledge of that fact. He pushes the thought aside for later when Clint starts talking into his phone.

“Maria? It’s Clint. How is she?”

“Worse. Her asthma is acting up and the doctors think she’s getting pneumonia. Fever went up to 104.2.” He can hear the exhaustion in her voice and his heart shatters.

“When can I see her?” His voice is breaking from something entirely different from his illness and Steve can see the worry pooling in his eyes like tears.

“Not until you’re at least three days free of illness, and Clint, you have to be careful. They think she’s been exposed to whatever you got, but if she hasn’t…”

“Okay. Maria? Get some sleep. You’re one of the only people I trust with her right now.”

“Nick’s going to be here in a few hours to check on her. He’s flying in from Cairo.”

“Okay. Do they know what’s wrong yet?”

“It’s not food poisoning- it’s Tony’s stomach flu from a few days ago. They think-” She is cut off and Clint hears coughing on the other end. “Hey, baby, I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Clint can hear Natasha throwing up and winces. She’s gagging painfully, and he can hear her labored breathing over the phone.

“Sorry, she just threw up again. They think that she probably picked up the regular flu from you, since she got sick later, and the pneumonia developed from there. Natasha, do you want to talk to Clint? He’s on the phone.”

“Hey, sweetie. I heard you were sick.” Clint’s voice softened as he heard Natasha’s weak breathing. “I’m going to be there as soon as I can, okay? Maria says three days minimum. I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you.” He starts coughing at the end.

“It’s okay. How are you feeling?” Her voice sends ice through his heart; it’s weak and very, very rough.

“Better. I can breathe again, and my fever broke. I’m still coughing, though, but I think I’ll be okay by tomorrow morning, which means I’ll see you three days from then.” 

“I hope you feel better.” She whispers and starts coughing again, the sharp noises shooting more icicles through his chest.

“You’re one to talk, sweetheart. I love you. I’ll be there soon.”

“I love you too.”

“Hey, Clint, it’s Maria. If you want, Steve can drop by tomorrow morning. He’s going to have to go through quarantine protocol 6, since he’s been around you, but as long as he’s not sick, he can see her.”

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you for staying with her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Clint coughs harshly.

“Get better soon, Clint. She’s worried about you. I’ll text you updates.” He can hear Natasha beginning to cough again in the background and the call ends.

“Maria says you’re free to see her in the morning, as long as you shower thoroughly and change.” Clint turns to Steve with a sneeze.

“Do you want me to stay here with you? You’re still sick, Clint.”

“Nat needs you more, Steve. I’d rather you be there. Besides, I’ll be fine.” Clint smiles and stands up, relishing the lack of dizziness. “I’m going to shower and head to the couch- I’ll toss everything in the wash later.”

“Don’t worry about that- I’ll make up the bed while you’re showering.” Steve kisses Clint’s lips briefly and then starts stripping the bed.


End file.
